


Leather and Lace

by lacemonster



Series: Lacemonster's Gifts [13]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Age Difference, Bathroom Sex, Clubbing, Facials, Goths, Jealousy, M/M, Messy, Rough Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Slut Shaming, Stranger Sex, boys in makeup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:33:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26471926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacemonster/pseuds/lacemonster
Summary: Damian's been skipping patrol. Dick finds him at a goth club in the arms of a stranger.Or: one-shot with slutty goth Damian
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Damian Wayne
Series: Lacemonster's Gifts [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1181402
Comments: 14
Kudos: 131





	Leather and Lace

**Author's Note:**

> Damian is eighteen in this fic but the age difference has not been changed, so expect less "we're both adults :)" and more "oh God Dick is just old now" fucky vibes.
> 
> Please refer to the tags for other warnings.
> 
> This fic started as a gift for someone. I started it 1-2 years ago, kept putting it off and forgetting about it, and just NOW I finally finished it. Thank you so much to the anonymous giftee for being so patient and letting me share this with everyone. You are truly the best and meeting you irl is a very dear memory to me.
> 
> Not much else to say except please stan goth Damian thank you

Dick walked down the steps leading into the underground entrance of the club. Before he arrived, he was worried that he might be underdressed. That worry disappeared once he was in the line and spotted a woman who was also sporting the same look—motorcycle jacket, black denim, and boots. While the website had stated a strict dress code, the bouncer seemed to nod people in pretty easily. Even so, Dick didn’t feel confident when he took his place in line.

The doors opened and closed, Dick caught roars of death metal. He avoided staring at the woman in front of him. Her vibrant red hair undoubtedly came from a bottle, but he was hypnotized nonetheless. His eyes subtly followed the trail of raven feathers tattooed up her vampire-white arm.

He would have never ventured to a place like this of his own volition, but he still found himself drawn in. Bruce’s dark aesthetic must have rubbed off on him. Dick had spent a good chunk of his life separating himself from Batman by embracing bright uniforms and endless smiles—but when he finally started to move out of his insecurities of being compared to Batman, he was able to embrace the things he liked about the Dark Knight. He wasn’t exactly ready to dive into a year-round-Halloween, but he liked darkness. He liked drapey fabric and the smell of leather and the luster of metal studs and rivets.

So when it came down to the topic of Damian getting involved in this whole lifestyle _,_ Dick did _get it_. He truly did. And when it came down to judging experimental fashion choices, he hadn’t exactly earned the right to criticize. When all was said and done, Damian was an artsy kid with an angsty past who grew up in a dark cave under a father who was obsessed with bats.

It made sense.

Dick _gets it_.

What Dick _didn’t_ get was how a smart, studious kid—who wanted nothing more than to be Batman—suddenly started skipping patrol just to sneak into clubs. What he didn’t get was how Damian, the one who grew up hiding himself under layers upon layers of sweaters and hoodies and jackets, started freely walking around in ripped-up shirts. What he didn’t get was how the boy who, for the longest time, had difficulties making friends with any creature that didn’t _moo_ —suddenly developed a habit of partying with strangers.

It just didn’t make sense. For all Dick’s experiences with teenage rebellion—for all the times he lied to Bruce and all the recklessness that got him into dangerous situations and all the ways he opened his eyes to sex and music and personal expression and _just anything but Batman_ —Dick just couldn’t understand.

The line was fastly approaching the door. Dick stared at his feet, his thumb flicking at his nose. He felt uncool, but not because of the way he was dressed.

_You’re being_ Bruce _right now_ , a voice inside his head whispered.

It didn’t stop there.

_You’re getting old. You’re out of touch. You’ve forgotten how to be young. How to rebel._

_You don’t know how to let go_.

The space between him and the bouncer shortened down to the redhead. Once she walked in, Dick handed his ID to the bouncer, and a headnod ushered him in. He had made it.

Dick was pulled through the crowd of people. The building was nothing but heat, huddled bodies dressed in black, skin sticky with sweat and alcohol. The lights pulsed between blue and green and red, washing the dancing bodies in eerie light. The music was deafening—thudding, pounding, roaring, a drumbeat with the power to resuscitate the dead.

Dick’s collided into bodies dressed in lace and leather alike. Even so, Damian never slowed down, parting the sea of people with his shoulders. Dick should have pulled his arm back. He was feeling less the elder in the situation the longer he was dragged around like an unruly child.

Damian threw him into the bathroom first. The sound instantly changed when the door fell shut, as if someone had dialed back the volume to near-mute. The bass and drums were still faintly audible, banging on the outside walls. Dick had been in seedier places. Gang hideouts, shady backrooms, villainous traps. The bathroom paled in comparison, but it wasn’t pretty by any means. The room was awash in a dull orangish-red light, failing to cover up the stained and vandalized walls, the broken tiles, the rusted railings. It was hot, as if all the heat had been trapped into this single room. It just _felt_ dirty, as if one handswipe across the floor would make a man sick for days. 

And this was the type of establishment Damian spent his nights now. Damian, the neatfreak, who couldn’t even handle staining his hands with graphite without wiping his hands clean every fifteen minutes. 

“You followed me,” Damian said, furious. It was the only place quiet enough for them to speak, but Damian raised his voice anyhow.

There was no point in denying it. Dick could have thrown in a few excuses or lies—that he was only worried, that he happened across this place by accident, that he wanted to spend time together—but when Damian met him with anger, Dick’s own feelings rose to the surface.

“You shouldn't be here. You're underage.”

Damian's expression tightened. He was angry, but Dick sensed that he was worried too. Maybe even flustered. Whatever he was feeling, there was no denying the look in his eyes—the ones that seemed to roar, _Get out_.

“We break rules all the time. Besides, I'm only under the age limit for alcohol and I don’t drink,” Damian said, crossing his arms.

“Did you think no one would find out?” Dick had to ask, feeling incredulous.

“I thought my privacy would be respected!”

“We don't keep secrets from each other—”

“Of course we do!” Damian said, scoffing. He sent Dick an accusing look. “We're just good at uncovering each other’s secrets, that's all. We like sticking our noses in other people's business. But that doesn’t make it _right_ , does it?”

“You skipped the past three patrols.”

“I’m not allowed to have a _life_?”

His words hit Dick hard. For a moment, Dick hesitated. Of course Damian was allowed to have a life. More than that, he _deserved_ to have a life. He had given his entire childhood to fighting. Why wasn’t he allowed to feel the liberation of young adulthood?

But then Dick thought about what he had just seen moments ago. He felt the sting of betrayal rise up inside of him, his face growing hot. He averted his gaze, unable to look Damian in the eye, glaring at the sink and mirror that was beaded with condensation.

“You can do whatever you want, Damian. But not this. This isn’t you. This is just some cry for attention.”

He needed to leave. It wasn't his place to be there. Dick moved to walk out. Damian’s fury was so fast that even Dick couldn’t react quick enough. Dick’s shoulder collided into the hard wall. Instinctively, Dick’s hand shot up to grab the arm that had pinned him—but he stopped, remembering who he was fighting.

“‘A cry for attention’?” Damian barked in his face, the whites of his teeth contrasted against his painted black lips. “I can’t even breathe without you making it about yourself! This isn’t about you or anyone else—I do this for me, and you can’t handle that. You’re not worried about me, you want to _control_ me—“

“I _am_ worried about you—“Dick insisted, unable to withhold the tone of pleading that slipped into his voice, as much as he tried to set aside the feeling of hurt in his chest. 

He brought this upon himself, he knew that, he shouldn’t have pried. And in the heart of the club, when he saw Damian with that—with that _man—_ Dick had done the right thing. He had walked away. He just simply hadn’t left quick enough, hadn’t torn away from the sight fast enough for Damian to not feel the weight of his gaze. Dick had crossed a line, it was true, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t _care._

“Worried about what?” Damian said, in this breathy sort of voice that almost felt like laughter. But Damian almost never laughed, and he wasn’t laughing now, his eyes were filled with resentment. “That I didn’t turn out to be the person you wanted me to be? That you can’t control me?”

“Look, I’m going. Okay? You can do whatever you want, I’m not—I’m not trying to _control_ you,” Dick said, brow furrowing.

“It bothers you that I have friends of my own.”

“They don’t seem like friends,” Dick said shortly. 

He tried to push it out of his mind. He tried not to let it get to him. But he couldn’t forget it—Damian with some stranger in his arms, their lips hungry and heated. Dick had never seen Damian like that. He never even thought it was possible. Even now, Dick couldn’t stop the rise in his chest, the turn of his stomach, the prickling underneath his skin. He couldn’t believe what he had seen, but he knew it was real. It was too real.

Damian shook his head at that response.

“If it bothers you so much, why not say something about it sooner? Why not take me away before anyone else had the chance?” 

Dick could feel the weight of Damian’s words. Some things had stayed with Damian throughout the years, like his way of trying so hard to be angry and defiant. But there was that underlying tone to his voice, that unmistakable one that Dick had caught glimpses of time and time again, even as Damian inched closer to manhood. Dick had thought that Damian outgrew him, that the boyish crush had been buried with the rest of the old Damian, and that only scared Dick more. Because Damian wasn’t really a boy anymore, and Dick really shouldn’t have been concerned if other men were able to give Damian what he never could. 

“You’re misunderstanding me. Look, I’m not discussing this now. Enjoy your night,” Dick said, determined to shut down this conversation.

Damian never backed down. His eyes narrowed at Dick.

“It does bother you, doesn’t it? More than the clothes and makeup and skipping patrol to sneak into clubs—it bothers you that I come here to find men.”

“No, it doesn’t. You’re free to be with whoever you want.”

“Don’t play it off like that,” Damian said, voice dropping. Dick immediately bristled in response. He could recognize the fall of Damian’s words, the way they slid evenly off his tongue. Damian never spoke this smoothly unless he was up to something. “No matter who I was with, it’d bother you. You hate the idea of my hands on anyone that isn’t you.”

Dick tried to block out those hushed, heated words. Damian was just being manipulative, just wanted to get a rise out of him. Dick stared directly into Damian’s eyes, hardfaced, as Damian tried to taunt him. 

“I’ve done worse things in my life than hook up with strangers. You know that.” Damian’s eyes narrowed, searching Dick’s face for some answer. Challenging him. His brow was deeply furrowed but his scowl had lessened, anger replaced with hard concentration. Voice lowering, he murmured, “So what is it then? Do you hate me for what I’ve become? Or are you jealous?”

Hate him? Dick could never hate Damian, no matter how much they disagreed. But _jealous—_ the word alone made Dick tense up, striking something inside of him. Dick had considered _over controlling_ , but he hadn’t considered _jealous_ , and yet, something rang true.

Damian seemed to take notice of Dick’s held breath, his grip on Dick’s body beginning to relax, his hands splayed over his form. Dick glanced down at them. The nails covered in black, wrists decorated in studs and chains. They travelled over his body, the touch light and slow. Dick could feel his skin prickle beneath those fingertips.

“You’re jealous because you’re not the center of my world.”

“That’s not true.” Even so, Dick’s heart beat faster and faster, anxious and uncertain. He stopped breathing.

“It bothers you that I hook up with strangers instead of you.”

Damian was close now. Their bodies nearly pressed together. Dick’s eyes fell to Damian’s black lips, watching his mouth and tongue form each word.

He instantly flashbacked back to that mouth and tongue being ravished. Those strange hands on Damian’s waist, hips, ass. _It bothered you._ Dick feels something flare up inside of him, the same as it did when he saw Damian kissing that stranger. 

But then his anger rose to indignation.

_Maybe_ he was jealous that Damian now easily offered his body to strangers. _Maybe_ he was jealous that as much as he knew Damian, he didn’t know _all_ of Damian. 

But he wasn’t foolish enough to think that he’d been replaced. Fuck that. Dick knew Damian better than anyone. And he also knew that any of these strangers were just a poor substitute. They could give Damian something physical. A kiss, an embrace, a touch, that Dick could not— _would_ not—provide.

But they would never know Damian’s secrets, read his moods, understand his thoughts.

So maybe Dick was jealous, but it was a shallow type of jealousy.

“No, it doesn’t bother me.”

“I haven’t been on patrol for three nights.”

Dick knew that Damian was trying to get under his skin. He wanted Dick to get uncomfortable. He wanted to fill his head with thoughts of him with whoever, doing whatever— _for three nights_ —in order to be left alone.

Damian was certainly standing closer. Dick held his breath as Damian’s hands smoothed down his front, slipping beneath the open folds of the leather jacket. Dick was sweating, he realized. The jacket was too hot for this cramped space. Or maybe Damian was the one who was suffocating him. Damian, who had never touched him like this before. Damian, who looked at him with those intense green eyes underneath full, darkened lashes.

Dick really didn’t mind Damian’s new look.

Dick should have stopped but he found himself paralyzed. Damian leaned in impossibly closer, hand now pressed against Dick's abdomen.

“Does it feel tainted to be touched by my hands?”

Damian never waited for an answer. Dick's breath hitched, the air sucked out of him, his shoulders tensing, as Damian grabbed him between his legs. Dick’s teeth ground down, eyes falling to Damian’s hand.

Dick watched Damian’s hand on his groin. Damian moved against him, massaging him through his jeans. Dick wasn’t sure whether to be aroused or disgusted. He stared, brow deeply furrowed, at that hand, eyes fixated on the tattered cuff of Damian’s jacket. This was wrong, disturbing. And yet, he wasn’t pushing Damian away—was this for his sake or Damian’s? A desire to be with Damian again or a desire to prove that Damian needed him after all?

Damian leaned in close, his black lips hovering over his, their breaths intermingling.

“What about my mouth?”

Dick’s blood went hot.

He should have stopped the whole thing. He should have pushed Damian away and walked out that door, never to bother Damian again. But it all seemed to happen so fast. Damian’s hands pulled at Dick’s belt. Dick watched, holding his breath as those hands nimbly removed the fastenings. Dick had been in such a daze that he hadn’t even noticed he was already semi-hard until Damian pulled him out of his jeans, his hand wrapped tight and warm around the shaft.

Dick watched as the boy got on his knees, not recognizing who he was seeing. This wasn't Damian kneeling on the tiles of a dirty, public bathroom. This wasn't Damian, chunky black boots folded beneath him. This wasn't Damian, unzipping Dick’s pants.

Damian had had sex. It was a hard realization that hit Dick like a train. Dick had no right to judge. He knew he didn't. People at Damian's age _should_ experiment. Dick had. But it felt scary and wrong. Dick wanted to pick Damian off the ground and take him out of that place. But he stood there, staring like an idiot, sweat gathering at his temples. 

Damian looked up at Dick as he started to stroke his cock. Dick's nerves pushed up into his throat, his whole body filled with tension. His hands clenched and unclenched. Damian had no right looking that good next to his erection. Damian had no right looking that good, period. But there he kneeled, hand twisting around Dick's cock in practiced, careful movements.

“Does it bother you that I'm used up?”

Beneath the taunting, Dick could sense the hint of resentment. Dick couldn't think of a proper response. All he could focus on was the way his cock swelled and pulsed with heat and want, the way it grew in Damian's grasp. Dick never expected things to turn this way—but feeling Damian touch his body reignited all of the desires and lusts that Dick had tried to suppress for so long. Damian wasn't a boy anymore, he hardly even looked like his normal self, and maybe that's why this made it so easy. He changed so much that it was easy to pretend that it wasn't him, the boy he helped raise. Maybe that's why Dick was just _letting it happen_.

Damian pumped Dick's cock a few more times, letting it get stiff and full. He leaned in and kissed the tip, causing Dick to rise in place, stirring against the bathroom wall. Fuck, he never expected Damian’s lips to feel that soft, never thought he would feel his hot breaths against his flesh... He never let himself even try to imagine. But Damian’s mouth felt perfect, and now Dick wondered how perfect it’d feel to have those lips run across his length or wrap around his girth.

Damian suddenly pulled back, shrugging off his jacket. Dick watched the garment slip from his shoulders, taken aback by the elastic harness resting over his skin-tight mesh shirt. Dick’s face went hot, finding something erotic by the black straps that hugged Damian’s form, his nipples and bare stomach exposed beneath the pattern of the mesh shirt.

Damian went back into jerking Dick’s cock, his hand freely moving without the sleeve bumping uncomfortably against Dick’s skin. Damian leaned in. Soft, warm kisses ran up and down Dick's length. Heat coiled in Dick's groin, his jaw clenching as he suppressed a moan. Damian pressed his face against Dick's cock, his experienced mouth sucking gently at his balls. At that, Dick let out a quiet breath. It was difficult to focus, his head already going hazy, Damian massaging and teasing the sensitive flesh with his mouth.

Damian ran his soft lips from the base to the tip. Dick watched, that sinful mouth parting to take in the head. Dick’s brow furrowed, nearly sighing as he was swallowed by those painted lips.

Damian lowered his gaze and Dick was transfixed by his eyes. His eyelashes were always full and beautiful, but the mascara seemed to darken and lengthen them, the smoked-out eyeshadow looking beautiful on his brown skin.

Damian took more of Dick into his mouth and Dick couldn’t resist the rush of heat and pleasure that pushed through his body. Dick’s hands tightened at his sides. Damian’s mouth was wet and hot, his tongue and lips soft. Damian moved his head further along, until his lips kissed the grip of his hand, which was circled tightly around Dick’s base.

Dick reached for Damian, hand pushing through his thick hair. Damian didn’t brush him away. Damian started sucking on his cock, his hand massaging the base of Dick’s erection as he moved. The more Damian worked his mouth and hand, the more apparent it was that he was practiced. The thought of Damian on his knees for anyone else, stroking and sucking cock, haunted Dick—but even so, pleasure coursed through his body, his breaths quickening. He pushed away thoughts of Damian with other men, didn’t dare to think about how Damian had learned any of this. It wasn’t his business. He didn’t want to know.

Damian’s mouth felt crazy good. There was something erotic about his small mouth, the way it squeezed around his shaft, the way the corners of his mouth visibly stretched to accommodate Dick’s size. Dick’s hand tightened in Damian’s hair, pulling him further along. Damian complied and removed his hand, taking Dick further into his mouth.

Dick groaned, unable to take his eyes off Damian, his mouth stuffed with his cock. Dick’s pulse quickened, his desire grew. Damian pulled back, lips and tongue dragging across his cock. Instantly, Dick could feel the absence of his mouth, desiring Damian to take him back in, and Damian did.

As Dick’s cock plunged deep into Damian’s mouth, an instant hunger consumed him. He grabbed Damian’s head to hold him in place, now actively thrusting into his mouth. Damian breathed around him, a soft sound filling the air as he inhaled through his nose. Dick’s cock throbbed at the sound, heat twisting in his stomach, heart beating faster and faster.

He fucked Damian’s mouth, hips pushing off the wall to sink deeper inside of Damian. He went too far, hitting the back of Damian’s throat, and Damian choked around him but didn’t stop, didn’t push him away. The most he did was spread his knees, giving him better balance on that dirty bathroom floor, his hands grabbing Dick’s hips to steady himself. If anything, he only moved to take more of Dick.

Dick’s belt clinked in the air as he moved his hips, fucking Damian quicker, harder. He could hear the sounds of Damian’s wet mouth and sucking filling the air, could catch the subtle inhales of air through his nostrils. Damian was taking his cock good, fast, and deep. That bothered Dick. It didn’t stop him, but it drove his thrusts with a sort of vengeance.

He went too deep again. Damian coughed around him, throat tightening around the head of Dick’s cock. Dick’s eyes rolled back, a cross between a moan and a gasp passing his lips. He didn't stop. He kept up the pace, dragging Damian’s head along, bobbing him up and down his cock.

Dick wanted to see it. Dick wanted to see how well these men trained Damian in his absence, if Damian could take him in his throat, if he could hold him there, hold him for seconds, hold him until he couldn’t breathe. He wanted to carve out a place inside of Damian, leave an impression inside of his throat that Damian would feel for days, that’d he remember no matter how many guys he sucked off before and after.

“Go down. All the way,” he instructed, voice thick and heated. Damian went deep. Dick groaned, his voice as breathy and guttural as a growl. He yanked Damian the rest of the way, face mashed against his groin, nose buried deep in the hair, chin pressed up against his balls. “Come on. Bite down on it.”

Every inch of Dick’s cock was surrounded by tight, wet heat. Dick swore under his breath, a haze clouding his mind, as Damian’s throat convulsed around his cock. It tightened, released, then squeezed again—shudders ran through Dick’s body, heat pushing into his groin. The sounds of Damian’s choking and sputtering only fuelled his arousal—but he released Damian, pulling out of him completely.

Damian sank onto the ground, his breaths rapid and strained. He tried to control his breath, tried not to appear overwhelmed in some weird show of pride. He wiped the back of his mouth with his hand, black lipstick smearing at the corner of his mouth and below his bottom lip. Dick’s cock was wet and glistening. Even without Damian wrapped around him, Dick’s cock throbbed, aroused by Damian’s darkened face and smudged makeup.

But when Damian looked directly at him, Dick paused.

Damian seemed to notice Dick’s hesitation. He seemed to take pleasure from that, the corner of his mouth lifting into a tired smirk. His hand reached for Dick, slowly stroking his cock. Dick’s eyelashes fluttered, his cock welcoming the warm embrace of Damian’s hand.

It was good. But Dick hungered for the heat and wetness of Damian’s mouth. Hand slipping into Damian’s hair, he forced Damian to look up at him.

“Open your mouth for me.”

Eyelashes lowering, Damian complied. Dick’s thumb traced over Damian’s parted mouth, dragging that black-smudged bottom lip. He looked messy and used and something about that turned Dick on. Dick looked at Damian's tongue with a thoughtful expression. He eyed the metal stud sitting there like a pearl. He had suspected that he had felt something beside Damian’s tongue, back when Damian was sucking on the head of his cock. Still, he felt a bit of disbelief, and quietly shook his head to himself.

“Why did you do this to yourself?”

Damian’s eyes suddenly lowered. Dick felt heat on his face where his fingers rested on Damian’s cheek. It was the only time that entire night where Damian showed any semblance of humility.

Dick didn't press Damian for an answer. He wrapped his hand around his cock, resting the tip against Damian's bottom lip. Damian mouthed at it, his lips massaging at the sensitive head. Dick gave a low moan.

“Keep your mouth open. Show me that tongue.”

Damian obeyed, letting Dick rub his cock up against his pierced tongue. Saliva pooling in the corners of his mouth as he kept himself open. Dick continuously rubbed up against him, his cock throbbing with the need to plunge inside of that mouth, that throat. Dick couldn’t resist, the desire was too great, too much.

He dove back into Damian’s mouth. Damian groaned around him, his lips humming against Dick’s flesh. Dick grabbed him by the head, yanking him along his length.

He fucked Damian’s mouth with a vengeance. Damian placed his hands on Dick’s thighs to steady himself as Dick fucked his mouth at a brutal place.

“Slut,” Dick breathed, words harsh and rough and slurred together. “Dirty fucking slut.”

And Damian just moaned in response, lips thrumming around Dick’s cock.

Dick arched off the wall. Heat rushed through his body. He was getting close. He could feel himself dancing on that edge, the rhythmic strokes of Damian’s lips and mouth keeping him there. His whole body tensed, his moans were endless. He just needed that extra push. Something to spill him over the edge.

He looked down at Damian’s ruined face and couldn’t help but groan. His black lipstick was worn and smudged across his mouth. His mascara and eyeliner ran beneath and around the corners of his eyes. Dick fucked him with long strokes, Damian's face repeatedly mashing up against his groin, Dick driving into him over and over again—and Dick barely recognized him like that, makeup all smudged and lips swollen. He looked and played the part of a dirty whore.

And Dick loved it. He loved seeing Damian on his knees, servicing his cock, choking on him, his face filthy. Loved the way that Damian took his abuse when he never took it from everyone else. It didn’t matter who Damian sucked or fucked or whatever—Damian belonged to him.

He wanted to make Damian even filthier. He wanted to mark him as his. He grabbed Damian by the hair, yanking him off his cock, a trail of saliva following his lips. Dick immediately started to pump his cock, quickly fucking into his grip at a faster rate than Damian could have moved. Pleasure raced through Dick. Everything felt hot. His breath quickened.

And Damian just kneeled there. All it took was for Damian to look up at him—eyeshadows running, black lipstick everywhere, his eyes egging Dick on, _daring_ him—

Dick groaned as he came. Damian flinched, but Dick grabbed Damian by the chin, holding him in place as he unloaded his thick, hot seed over the boy’s cheek and jawline. He trembled as he finished, Damian’s face catching each spurt, further ruining his dirty face. Dick’s thumb smeared over the come, pressing it toward Damian’s parted lips. He groaned and shuddered as Damian sucked Dick’s thumb into his mouth, cleaning him off.

Dick pulled Damian off the ground by his arm, catching Damian’s lips with a searing kiss. The kiss tasted bitter. Dick didn’t care, he loved it, and he hungrily tasted Damian’s mouth with his tongue and lips.

Even after the kiss, Dick’s body still burned, his skin thrumming. They parted, both of them breathing heavily. Dick then noticed Damian’s hand, just as it reached for his groin. Dick groaned, his sensitive cock stiffening in Damian’s grip. Dick was already hard again.

“Okay,” Damian breathed against his skin. Dick caught the faintest hint of a smirk on those stained lips. “Now you can take me home.”


End file.
